Three Minutes
by PhantasyPhan13
Summary: An addendum of sorts to the end of TLJ. Phasma didn't die-at least, not permanently. But she's experienced just enough of death to ask herself: Why was I happier in death than I was in life?


Three minutes.

That's how long Captain Phasma was clinically dead.

It was also when she discovered that she might actually want to die.

Phasma was a little dazed after landing on some burning rubbish bags after falling through the floor of the ship. Her helmet was filtering the smoke from the fire, but she could feel it breaking down. Soon enough she'd be coughing and gasping for air. Her exposed eye was on fire, and her leg was stuck under some shrapnel. She gave it a yank and winced. Definitely broken.

Broken leg, suffocation, burns...she was not going to make it. She was going to burn down here, and choke on smoke, and she'd die in horrible agony. This was not how she wanted to go out, but here it was. She was going.

She spent the rest of her time down there desperately trying to free her broken leg. The more she pulled, the more it hurt. She covered her eye with her hand, and the burning stopped. It felt squishy and blistered. She gagged. She'd have to get a new eye...if she made it out, which she wasn't going to. She cursed. It was FN-2187's fault. Defeated by the one stormtrooper she couldn't subdue. It was ignominious. Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. She wondered if her body would ever be found. Probably not. Maybe she'd be forgotten completely and nobody would find out her various secrets.

Another explosion rocked the ship. More shrapnel fell on her. She felt something pierce her chest. She gasped. Now she couldn't move. She wasn't impaled so badly that she died instantly, just enough to hurt like hell and slowly snuff her out as blood trickled down her armor.

She screamed. Blood dribbled out of her mouth, and she choked. Nobody could hear her. She kept screaming, ignoring the blood. Her mouth filled. Her airways were blocked. She could hear running and screaming. Everyone was going to escape but her. Hux was probably looking for his stupid cat instead of her. Kylo Ren was probably moaning about his hair being too dry. He always had to complain about _something_.

Her vision blurred. She began counting down the seconds to her doom. _One. Two. Three._ Black tunneled in at the sides of her vision. _Four. Five._ Hearing went out. _Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. _She couldn't feel her limbs. _Ten…_

Ten was when she lost thought completely. Everything was too muddled for her to be able to do anything than cling to the last bits of perception she had. She breathed. She tasted blood. She breathed again. She tasted smoke. She took one last breath, and the last thing she could remember tasting was bile.

…..

She wasn't in pain anymore. In fact, she felt warm. Calm. All the suffering was behind her now. She felt lightheaded, like she was floating. She looked down. She was standing on pure blackness. Nothing ahead and nothing behind. She didn't feel afraid. This was where she was supposed to be. She wasn't thinking. Thought couldn't encapsulate where she was. She drifted along, ghostlike, peaceful, wandering. She wasn't bored or curious. There was nothing now. Nothing but the strange realm. Not life, not death; it was something in between.

The warmth increased. She let go of any last lingering doubts holding her back. This was here. This was now. Her life was behind her; her death too far in the future to properly conceive. There was light. It was colorless, and warm, and bright. She reached towards it. She felt joy so intense she could barely continue to exist. Blistering, overwhelming joy. This was it. This was why she had been sent here. She floated along, still reaching. The rays of light bathed her. She didn't need to look at herself to know she was shining, more intensely than her armor had in life.

She heard a roar in the background. She ignored it. It wasn't her problem. She was going somewhere where there was no fear. No pain. No suffering. Just light. A feeling of balance. A feeling of wholeness. It was filling her soul in a way nothing else had. She needed it, and it needed her.

Something coiled around her legs. She kicked at it, not really thinking about anything in particular. She continued on. She was getting closer. Something brushed against her once more. Was this part of a test? What was taking her away from the light?

She looked down. It was fire. She gasped. What was going on? Where was she?

Then she made the mistake of looking back.

Cold shivers coursed down her back. Her stomach roiled. There was fire. There was darkness. Oblivion. Pain worse than any she had known in life. A fate worse than death. It was here for her, to punish her for every sin she had had the gall to commit. Every life she had taken was coming for her with a vengeance. If it caught up with her, there would be no more light. She would be pinned down, flushed with horror and something indescribable. No breath, no freedom, no escape. Constant torment. All for her and her alone.

She tried to float faster. She had to get to that light. It was the Force, she realized. She felt thousands, perhaps millions of other souls who were a part of it. She was ready to dive into the void, to fill the world with light and dark. The fire kept tugging her back. She tried to scream, but she no longer had a voice. The thing taking her away was stronger than the Force, and just as ancient.

The more she fought, the more she slowed. The fire seared into her very being. She whimpered inwardly. She felt lashes upon her back. She howled. All the noise she made echoed in her ears, for her alone to hear. She knew deep down that she deserved it, and that was the most frightening part of all. This was what was meant for her. The light had all been a cruel trick. She was being taken somewhere where she'd have to pay with her existence. Somewhere where her crimes could never be forgiven. The Force couldn't forgive her. What about the dark side? Where was that? Wasn't that where she was supposed to be?

_I'm not going away, _she told herself. _The Force is for me. That was where I was supposed to be. Someone or something is interfering. I can't let it._

Suddenly she felt air hit her face. She choked. Air filled her lungs again. The light was fading fast. She held out her hand. _No. Come back! Come back!_

….

She opened her eyes. The shrapnel was still embedded in her. She still tasted blood. She was alive. She could feel her heart beating. She tentatively pushed the shrapnel away. It moved. Now her chest was free.

She looked up. Fire had consumed the entire ship. Nobody was running anymore. She didn't have much time left. She pulled her leg. It shifted slightly. Her heart beat harder. She had a glimmer of a chance.

She pulled once more. It moved an inch. The fire was coming closer. She yanked yet again. This time, her leg moved away entirely. She gritted her teeth as pain shot up through her body. Now was the hard part: Not only would she have to put weight on her broken leg, she'd have to climb up the walls of the hole and grab an escape pod before the ship was completely destroyed.

She stumbled to her feet. The fire had completely surrounded her. Her armor wasn't going to protect her for long. She ran to the wall, wincing with every step she took. She grabbed onto anything she could find. Then she hoisted herself up. She was doing it. She was burning and her leg throbbed and she could barely breathe and she was sure time had run out, but she would do anything to survive. She was going to make it. She couldn't die again. Not twice on the same day. That was too much.

One. Two. Three.

She counted each time she pulled herself up a little more. It was better than acknowledging the chaos around her.

Four. Five. Six.

By the time she was back up on the surface, she had counted to twenty-three. She smelled burning hair and flesh. She knew it was probably hers, but she ignored it. Her head swung around. _Where is the escape pod? Are they all used up?_

Her heart sank. She was going to die. She ran around anyway, hoping against hope that the impossible might be true.

Then her hand felt a metal door. She pulled it open. She didn't care where she was leaping into. It only mattered that she got away from this horrible place.

The door shut behind her. She felt the capsule propel itself away from the ship. _There was one after all._ Still, she couldn't rest until her feet hit solid ground. She curled herself up into a ball as the capsule weaved its way through space. The stars around her seemed to mesh into lines and streak across the windows. Not quite fast enough for hyperspeed, but fast enough that she would surely crash on whatever surface she encountered. She hoped she wouldn't hit water. She was definitely too weak and tired to swim.

She realized she was still smoldering and rolled over as much as she could in the small space. Then she sighed and felt her heart rate begin to slow down a little. She could think now that she wasn't in danger. She straightened herself and began checking her body for injuries.

Her hair was singed, but most of it was still intact, with maybe a burn or two along her scalp. A few more burns on her shoulders, arms, and chest. Nothing worse than second degree. Maybe one or two third degree burns, but those were manageable enough.

Then she looked at her leg.

She almost vomited. The bone was broken so badly it showed through her flesh. She could see the splinters of bone jutting. She felt dizzy. She took a breath. She needed to go to a med center or she'd have to cut her leg off.

How would she get there? She didn't have a ship other than the capsule. Maybe she could convert it into a small craft. Or maybe there would be a med center on whatever planet she landed on. She glanced out her window. The capsule didn't seem any closer to landing than it had a few minutes ago. She would have to wait just a little longer.

As the time ticked by, Phasma felt herself lose her sanity. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rocked herself back and forth, trying to ignore the pain. She couldn't. Every second, she could feel every one of her injuries. One passed, her leg hurt. Another passed, her chest hurt. And on and on, without a stop to the madness.

Just as she couldn't bear it anymore, the capsule smacked into something hard. Phasma tumbled out, feeling faint. For a moment, all she could do was lie there, noticing that she stirred little puffs of sunset orange sand with each breath.

Sand? She shook her head and sat up. She was in a sort of tropical desert. There was sand everywhere, but there were also lush trees, and the air was humid. Jungle licked at the borders of the desert. Without even thinking, Phasma staggered to her feet. With her mind and soul exhausted, she was relying on pure instinct alone.

She felt as though she had drifted out of her body and was watching herself as she limped through the desert. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. She just wanted some food, and water, and somewhere to rest. The med center could be dealt with later. Her leg was holding up for now. Gradually, all pain faded until there was nothing but desire and desperation propelling her forwards. It was almost a mania. She kept walking, walking, searching for something she wasn't sure she'd find.

Finally, she reached what seemed to be a small oasis. Phasma's knees buckled and she crawled towards the water. She didn't even check if it was safe to drink or not. She simply lowered her head and drank until her thirst was finally quenched, for about five minutes. Then it all hit her.

She was too feeble to search for food or medical aid. Her body was telling her she needed to rest. She crawled again, exhaustion overwhelming her. Finally, she found some bushes to hide in and stopped. She didn't move into a comfortable position or even take her broken leg into consideration. She just stopped moving and flopped down in whatever position gravity chose to drag her into. She winced as she felt her leg splay out at a bizarre angle.

But that didn't matter. _Later, _she promised herself. _Later I can clean out the sand from my wounds and go to a med center and send a flare to let the First Order know where I am...if I care to go back to them at all._

Then her train of thought dwindled to nothing. She was too tired to even think, and she had completely lost the will to move. She used the last of her remaining strength to shut her eyes. Then her exhaustion dragged her down, into blackness as thick and deep as the ocean, just a flicker away from total unconsciousness.

…

Damn it. She was back in the void again.

_Why here? I'm alive._ This time, the blackness wasn't empty. It was full of stars that twinkled to the point of blinding her. She looked at her feet. This time, she didn't just think she was floating; she actually was.

Even worse, Hux and Kylo were floating in the void with her.

"You're dead too?" she snapped.

"I'm not," Hux said.

"I'm a Sith. I can't die," Kylo said.

"You're not a Sith, you ignorant bag of lothcat poodoo," snapped Hux.

In spite of herself, Phasma snorted. Then she shook her head. "Why are you here? Miss me?"

"No," Hux said. "I'm more than happy to be rid of you. We're here to ask you if you want to die."

Phasma's jaw flopped open. _Want to die? After I spent all that time struggling to survive?_

"No thank you," she said.

"Are you sure?" Kylo asked. "I think you'd be better off here instead of on that stupid desert planet."

Phasma thought for a moment. She _had _felt good in the void…

"Do you really think so?" she asked.

Kylo rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. I never liked you anyway."

"That isn't helping," Hux said.

Phasma felt a headache coming on. She didn't feel like breaking up _another _argument between those two idiots. Right now, she had to decide whether to die or keep living.

"You have nothing to live for," Hux said. "Come with us. At least you'll be safe."

Phasma opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't think of a good reply. All her life, the only thing she'd considered important was staying alive. Her mind was always three steps ahead, trying to get through another day. She'd lied, cheated, and killed just to ensure her own survival. She'd never considered what her life was without that constant drive. Who was she really? Did she deserve peace?

_Maybe I should let go, _she thought. _Let myself feel good for once. Let go of my life. Let go of everyone I've screwed over…_

She hesitated. "What's in it for me?"

"An eternity of joy," Hux said.

"Unless something else takes you back," Kylo added.

Phasma winced. She didn't need for him to clarify what he meant. The darkness that had been dragging her back. The punishment. That scared her…

Phasma didn't speak. She didn't need to. She realized what was going on. Hux and Kylo were playing devil and angel in her mind as her body struggled to choose death or survival. This was her trying to come to terms with what she'd experienced when she was dead.

She'd never felt good before. Well, except for when she killed someone. She'd felt so calm, so blissful, so free. Just a tiny taste of that made her want it back. She'd thought death would hurt. And it had. But…

Did she actually _want _to die?

Was she that pathetic, that purposeless?

There was the serenity, and there was the agony of existence. She knew what she wanted. Except what she wanted went against everything she'd been.

She wavered a bit longer. "If I choose to die...can I ever come back?"

Hux shook his head. Kylo did as well.

She bit her lip. She didn't want to stop existing completely. If she died, she would sacrifice her own identity. She'd become part of a whole. She wouldn't be Phasma anymore. She'd be the Force. A hive mind, so to speak.

Even with the bliss, she shivered. That frightened her. The idea of no more her...that was more than she cared to comprehend.

But the bliss…

Before she could choose, she felt her hand twitch. She screamed as light erupted around her. "No! Let me back! I'm so sorry! Let me die! Please! Anything to feel anything other than pain for once in my life!"

Her colleagues smirked at her. If this had been real, she'd sock them both in their arrogant little noses.

But this wasn't real. This was a dream. And she woke up, covered in sweat and feverish.

…..

After recovering from her dream, Phasma checked her wounds again. They weren't good. She was worried they were starting to get infected. Sand had made its way into them, making them sting. And her leg...well, she couldn't look at her leg without getting dizzy.

Phasma sighed and shut her eyes. If she really wanted to, she could die right here. Just lie here, and starve, and eventually go to sleep and never wake up again.

Then something hit her: Was her experience in the void _real?_

Had she dreamed it all? Maybe it was all a cocktail of chemicals going off like booster rockets in her dying brain. It was all a hallucination, and death really was nothing. She would be in pain, and then she'd feel nothing for the rest of eternity. It would still be peaceful...just not very reassuring.

Phasma wished she could find a way to make herself feel that bliss in her life. Killing people all the time wasn't going to work at some point, and then she'd chase the endless promise of survival. Her childhood had taught her that survival comes at a cost, and she'd made up her mind that that cost would be the survival of everyone else. Anything she felt towards other people would be stuffed deep inside her and locked up tight.

She couldn't help feeling things, though...and death was one of those few things that made her feel at all.

Phasma looked at the sky. The three suns were setting. She'd slept a long time. Night would fall soon, and then she'd have to contend with the predators and the cold and the possibility of bandits or bounty hunters coming to track her down. How did she know that there weren't posters scattered around the galaxy with her name on them?

She took a blaster from under her cape and pressed it against her skull. This was it. Time to decide. Death, one of the few things that made her heart beat against her ribs...or life, which was generally dull and focused solely on living because that's what she'd been taught to prioritize?

She closed her eyes. Her finger prepared to pull the trigger…

And she found she couldn't pull it.

She sighed. She tried again. She still couldn't pull it.

Death was an uncertainty. She couldn't be sure whether she would really like it or not. Besides, she'd spent her whole life cheating death. Why was she ready for it now? Just because she was craving a moment of joy that may or may not really be there?

Joy wasn't important, she decided. At least not for now. Right now, all she wanted was to stop feeling pain. And to do that, she had to find a med center.

Maybe there was something in life that could make her feel something other than killing people. She just hadn't found it yet. Death would come for her when it was ready. Maybe, just maybe, the time wasn't now.

With a groan, Phasma pulled herself to her feet and began her quest to find a med center.

….

By the time Phasma had collapsed on the doorstep of the med center, her leg was screaming in a way she never thought she'd feel, and her burns were searing with pain. She managed to pull together enough strength to pick herself up one last time and ring the doorbell. She didn't care if they recognized her. She just wanted to stop hurting.

Then she collapsed again, and her last drop of consciousness was spent feeling sturdy arms grabbing her and voices calling out medical terminology she didn't understand too well. After that, she slid into deep, peaceful unconsciousness.

The rest of the time spent in the med center was a montage of sleep and wakefulness. The first time she came to, her bone was being set. The next time she opened her eyes, she was having the bandages on her chest changed. She continued to slip in and out of consciousness, struggling through fevered hallucinations and bizarre dreams. All the while, as her body gained strength, her mind continued to debate whether death was the best choice or not for her.

Thankfully, each time she was confronted with this question, her drained mind decided to move on to the next surreal vision. But throughout her vexing slumber, Phasma wondered if she'd made the right choice by choosing not to die. She wasn't in the First Order anymore...what was she going to do? Where would she go? How would she live?

Then, after visions of Hux and Kylo telling her she deserved to die, a familiar face popped into her mind. FN-2187! The bastard! What if he started a revolution among her stormtroopers? What if he let slip everything she'd tried to hide about herself? She had to find him and kill him before he destroyed her life. That was what she'd do.

Phasma finally regained full consciousness. As the ceiling above her came into focus, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She knew for sure what she'd be spending the rest of her life doing. She might not be part of the First Order anymore, but she wasn't going to let her reputation get ruined by one of her former trainees. That was what she could live for. And after that? Well, that wouldn't be for a long time.

Phasma swung her legs out of bed and stood. She flexed her arms. She was healed. She felt strong. Her leg could support her now without pain. She was ready, and she wouldn't stop until she pulled the trigger on FN-2187.

She pulled her armor on and stepped into the light. As it filtered through her mask, she took a breath and stepped onto the sand. Screw the First Order. Her life was hers, and she was going to spend it doing what she wanted. And death? That could wait. It wasn't her time.

But it sure as hell was FN-2187's.


End file.
